


Time Fallen

by theMiragePrismatic



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMiragePrismatic/pseuds/theMiragePrismatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reinette Poisson did not die of tuberculous - she fell through time, her disappearance covered by her looming death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover Aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cover Image

Jeanne Antoinette 'Reinette' Poisson Aesthetic - 17th Century Witch of Beauxbatons who experimented with Time Turners near the end of her life and fell through time.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Reinette was always of sharp mind and quick wit, the epitome of a French woman: confident, elegant, refined. She knew truths when others attempted to feed her lies and discerned the whole even when part was withheld.She also knew curiosity and love of beauty and creation and bold exploration. She knew magic and wonderment - true magic of creating art with her wand, watching the magical dance of her sister students, of the pictures the orchestra painted with their music drawing them into another time, another world.  
  
She knew the elegant balls and masquerades of court, she knew their secrets, she knew politics, she knew failure and enemies for even she could not charm them all.  
  
It was a relief to back at Beauxbatons - to be away from court. Her illness was ever more stubborn - the tuberculous had been laughable but this - well.   
  
She had enemies even in the wixen world. The curse and poison she feigned as the dreaded tuberculous had not been kind to her looks and she admitted distress at their loss. She adored beauty and yes, she was vain.  
  
If she had ulterior motives in (casually) inviting herself into this project then so be it. Besides - the music and art of her peers brought to life the past, imagined the future - wouldn’t be wonderful to _see_ one with her own eyes?   
  
She had had blonde locks so fine and cared for they had looked like gold; she hadn’t spoiled it with powdered wigs and she was prestigious enough to get away with it. Now there was white and gray in her locks and to add insult to injury, her curse made her condition worse when she took certain potions, making lines appear and inducing painful hacking coughs.  
  
But this project took her mind off things.  
  
The work was exhilarating, the hum of the magic through her wand, visions of pasts and present, mirrors flickering and tapestries woven with great deeds  
  
One moment, she was twirling her wand, grasping the threads of magic with another hand, eyes locked on their prototype time-turner and the next - the floor lurched, gave out, her heart leaping as if trying to get free, her body falling - blurs, light. Everything was just moving too fast.  
  
It was as if she had stepped through one of Beauxbatons mirror doors, the space folding and shifting around her but everything was _shattering, spinning -_  
  
She gasped, her skirts tangling her legs horribly in a way only girls new to their petticoats did, vision tilting horribly.  
  
_I am French! This will not -_  
  
She curled her magic into herself and then threw it around her - an aura, a shield to keep her body from flying to bloody pieces.  
  
She was only vaguely aware of the hum of magic - new magic, different people, startled gasps, music coming to a screeching halt, a violin bow drawn too sharply across the strings.  
  
The world reasserted itself with a jolting abrupt color and stop and stillness, her body trembling and threatening upheaval of long-eaten food  
  
She flopped down, her skirts billowing around her, hand clutching her wand so hard she feared it might break. Fog, blur - her head felt like a squished melon.  
  
“ _Give her space!”_  
  
Their French was strange but at least it was French.  
  
She sank into the folds of her skirts, curling around her wand. At least everything had stopped spinning.


	3. Steady Ground

“Nasty curse that,”

Reinette’s eyes flicked up from her book to the medical matron performing her diagnostic spells.

“But not one that isn’t fading,”

‘Fading?” Reinette sat up. “This curse is an illness; it is killing me.”

“Well, you disappeared experimenting with the time turner, did you not? Jumped forward too many centuries. The caster is dead and their curse with them.”

* * *

Once again, her beloved school took her in, provided shelter, the elegant halls not much changed since her time only respelled, refurbished.  
  
It is a relief to see the place hasn’t changed much save for the needed updates. A pair of girls had walked her to the infirmary, ever patient with her frequent needs to stop. And now - the curse, broken by a leap in time.

It had been several days for the nausea to wear off; it seemed that their old workroom had been in use a dancing room for the new generation.

The Matron was very firm that she get rest and treatment and meals were delivered by the clock automatons she remembered from her own school days. An Italian delegation had raised holy hell about them, claiming theft though she never looked into it further; she’d been more occupied with her studies.

“It’s part of an art trade,” One of the music students - a polite young French boy - had come to deliver a basket of cards and well-wishes. The Matron screened the remedies thoroughly and Reinette was pleased to find several invitations for tea and visits. “The Italians came back, about the automatons. Said they were stolen from the student of Leonardo da Vinci. They let us keep them and we traded some of our cloth magic. They’re trying to be more honest about where the art comes from these days.”

“I was so often told that France was conceited, uppity,” Reinette mused. The twine was tart, sharp, forcing her awake. “Things have changed.”

“Perhaps a newspaper? Or several?” the student offered.

“Please. As much reading material as you can,”

* * *

“This is such an honor!”

Reinette had been moved to her own apartments, which she recognized as the school guest quarters.

Madame Olympe Maxime was such a tall woman, had she been of lesser decorum, she would have stared. As it was, Reinette dipped into curtsy that had less effect in their lighter gowns. Their dress was alarming at first but she was assured it was modest.

“An honor to meet you, Headmistress,”

“No, no please, do stop,” the Madame chuckled. “I am the guest of course. This was your school before it was mine.”

She could only incline her head respectfully. “Some refreshments, perhaps?” she said, crossing to the couches where a tray of drinks and snacks had been set. “What suits your fancy?”

“Some tea perhaps.”

Once settled - Reinette noticed the tea set adjust to accommodate the Headmistress’s larger size - Olympe spoke.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,”

“I thank you for your consideration. Your missives were most delightful and informative.”

“I am glad to hear it. And how are you adjusting?”

“Very well, thank you. The students are excellent hosts and hostesses; you should be proud.”

She smiled in pride. “We do adhere to a standard of excellence here at Beauxbatons as you well know. Now, you’ve been here for a few days…”

“The…weight of my situation does press,” she agreed. “You mentioned… I have - I have descendants?”  
  
“I did. Would you like us to contact them?”

A nervous smile escaped before she could suppress it. “I imagine this must be quite odd for them.”

“It is a little odd. but on the contrary. They’re very excited to meet you.”

“Perhaps, I shall wait, adjust.”

“Of course. You have free reign of the school of course; feel free to use our facilities.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will come very slowly

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Disclaimer: Reinette Poisson is inspired by her portrayal by Sophie Myles in the Doctor Who Series 2 Episode: Girl in the Fireplace (10th Doctor). She was a real historical woman named Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour, also known as Madame de Pompadour. She was a member of the French court and was the official chief mistress of Louis XV from 1745 to her death. (x) She was often called Reinette. Faceclaim: Sophie Myles (of course)
> 
>  
> 
> [Time Fallen on Tumblr](https://theprismatic-inkwell.tumblr.com/tagged/Time-Fallen)


End file.
